Just Dessert: A Short Story
by S is for Psycho
Summary: After her perfect life is shattered, all Bella wants to do is move on, but a certain skeleton just won't stay in its closet and what started as a normal night on the town soon turns into a deadly game of cat & mouse. OOC/Mush&Sap-Free/AU
1. Just Dessert: A Short Story Part I

**A/N: Any characters from The Twilight Saga are property of Stephanie Meyer and her publisher, I claim no ownership of them, blah blah blah and other standard small print mumbo-jumbo bullcrap. I just thought it'd be cool to mess with their morals and egos.**

**I've spent the past 6 months writing, editing, rewriting, reediting, reading, revising, reediting, rereading and reediting this some more because I'm OCD like that but still too lazy to search for a beta. I'm to the point, though, where if I don't post it now I'll be stuck in the reread-reedit cycle forever. Needless to say, I hope you enjoy it. It makes sense in my head, hopefully it makes sense in yours, too.  
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**JUST DESSERT: **

_A Short Story_

_"Some lessons are only learned the hard way."_

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"Late, Garrett!" Ash called over his shoulder as he stepped through the service door into the alley. "Tell Theodore I've gone for me, will ya?"

"Oh I'll tell Teddy Dearest, all right. I'll tell the ruddy puff right upside his loaf! Ha!" Garrett grabbed at the mop handle with both hands to steady himself as he doubled over, roaring with laughter.

"Cheers, Ash!" He managed to choke out, wiping tears from his eyes.

Ash waved then smiled and shook his head, weaving his way around puddles and crates and scattered rubbish. Garrett was the oddest man Ash knew, but that was why he loved him. They were best mates going on ten years now, and not a day had gone by that Garrett couldn't make Ash smile.

Adjusting the strap of his messenger bag so it rested more comfortably on his shoulder, Ash paused at the street corner and glanced at his watch.

01:48

A curse that would raise even Garrett's eyebrows slipped between Ash's lips as he fidgeted with the bag strap again and darted towards another alley. Time always got away from him when he let Garrett talk him into drinks and now he would have to take the shortcut back to his flat and hope that Charlotte wasn't still up waiting for him. It was the third time this week Garrett had talked him into staying late at the bar for a drink and Char would surely have him by the jewels when he finally made it home.

Curious why his girlfriend hadn't actually ripped him a new one yet, Ash reached into his pocket and retrieved his mobile. Another curse escaped into the night; he had forgotten to turn it back on after his last set. Theodore was obsessed, to put it lightly, about his pianists being distracted by personal calls so he made them lock up their mobiles while on the clock. Ash thought he had turned it on after he collected his things from the locker, but he must have been too distracted by Garrett.

Jamming his finger into the power button, he made a quick right, deviating from course, and headed for the corner shop he knew would still be open at this late an hour. If there was anyone on Earth that would help keep him from the doghouse tonight it was his two other best mates, Ben and Jerry.

Flooded with new messages, the small phone started beeping loudly into the still, damp night, startling Ash and causing him to trip over a crack in the pavement. The phone slipped from his fingers and skittered away into the shadows behind some overflowing trash bins.

Dropping his head back in defeat, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. For the third time that night, Ash was unabashed in his choice of words, muttering them angrily at the heavens. Finally, he swung his messenger bag around to his backside and squatted down, his back to the alley and its thick, tar-like shadows that concealed the stone figure watching nearby.

The sudden silence of the night rang loudly in Ash's ears. His hands slowed then paused in their search for his dropped mobile as gooseflesh crawled up his arms and the small hairs at the back of his neck prickled. Slowly straightening his back, Ash steeled himself to turn his head and caught a movement in the shadows to his left with the corner of his eye. His heart raced and the palms of his hands broke out in sweat. Counting his phone lost, he prepared to make a run for it. The mobile was replaceable, and Char didn't really need the sweets anyway, not if it meant he could avoid being mugged.

Just as Ash was about to launch into a full sprint, his phone loudly beeped at him from right next to his foot, causing him to jump and lose his balance. Reaching out to catch himself, his hand struck the edge of an unsteady pile of crates that toppled over and around him into the alley. A stray cat that had been sitting on a bin to the side licking itself screamed and ran off into the night.

The alley went silent again. Then, laughing incredulously at what just happened, Ash scooped up his mobile and stood. He glanced around the empty side street using his phone for a torch; if there had been a mugger, the ruckus surely scared them off.

Ash turned once more toward the corner shop doing his best to brush the mud off his slacks, mentally drawing up the list for damage control. Chunky Monkey for the late hour, Walnut Whips for the extra dry cleaning trip Char would have to make tomorrow and Carlsberg for the unavoidable headache he'll still have to deal with despite his best efforts to avoid one. Before Ash could even take a step toward the safety of the light coming from the neon signs and florescent overheads of the 24-hour corner market, a cold steel band of an arm reached around his mid-section. At the same time, an equally cold and hard hand clamped over his mouth and nose, effectively cutting off his fourth and final curse.

**

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*****

Bella's eyes snapped open then came together in a glare as her gaze canvassed the spacious hotel room. Aside from the recently settled dust motes, everything was exactly as it had been before she sat down to meditate that morning. There was no reason for it not to be; if anything had changed, she would have known the instant it happened. Nothing caught Bella off guard anymore, yet still, her intuition prickled and made her uneasy. Something was not quite right; she could feel it in the air.

Brushing it off as a bit of cabin fever, she glanced to the window to her left. Judging the brightness of the curtains, the sun was only minutes away from abandoning the city to darkness. Taking lead from the sun, Bella got up from the large bed, abandoning her daydreams of a life no longer within reach. Grabbing a cigarette from the pack lying on the nightstand and pulling her Zippo from her pocket, Bella drew the curtains aside, threw open the window and sat on the sill.

Inhaling deep the first drag of the night, her lungs reacted indifferently to the poisonous smoke. The cigarettes did nothing for her, yet she smoked them anyway. Unable to become addicted to the small object, she still became addicted to the action.

Her mom had smoked when she was younger. Renee had always tried to hide it from Bella, but secrecy was never one of her strong points. Still, Renee never actually became addicted herself; she only smoked when something was troubling her. The buzz took the edge off, Renee had admitted once to Bella.

Now it was Bella's turn to be troubled. She had been for the past five years, and while none of the six hundred ingredients wrapped up in the little cancer stick smoothed any edges, the act of smoking it did. It became a link to her mother, her former life. A reminder of everything she had had and all that she had thrown away.

Protected from the sun's last rays by the building surrounding her, Bella looked down on the evening circus of the street below as she slowly sucked on her cigarette. She watched the business men and women making their way to the Underground or hailing cabs, the tourists shuffling along in large groups, stopping frequently to gawk and point at their surroundings; preserving the moment on their cameras and creating traffic jams on the pavement that rivaled those in the streets caused by the local youths that passed between moving cars, calling out to friends and strangers alike, gradually making their way to nearby pubs and clubs, paying no mind to the speeding vehicles or designated pedestrian crossings.

All dressed and pressed in their Friday-night-best, these youths were Bella's favorites. They were the easiest targets. Not only being complete lushes, they were more often than not also on some form of illegal, mind-altering substance that further alleviated them from the burden of their natural instinct to fear and avoid her, making picking them off like taking candy from a baby.

But as abundant as the candy was that night, Bella curbed her sweet tooth. Her time as Amica Lincoln—a relatively plain but ultimately feisty woman when it came down to the end of it, who had moved to the city from across the country to start a fresh, new life—was coming to an end. And while Mica had been able to provide Bella with a place to stay much longer than most of the others, Bella didn't want to invite suspicion by over-staying her welcome. At any rate, she was ready to move on and make her way south. Staying in one city too long made her antsy, plus, it had been a while since she had seen the ocean and she missed it; its grace, its power, its ability to cleanse and destroy at the same time.

Bella pulled on her cigarette a final time before flicking the spent butt away. The faintest, honey-sweet flicker of flavor carried in by an all but unnoticeable breeze flowed across her tongue, mixed in and muddled almost unrecognizable by the putrid cancer-stick smoke, causing her eyebrows to twitch down slightly. Exhaling the smoke more forcefully than necessary to rid her lungs and mind of the impossible taint, she watched as the remains of her cigarette arched over people, cars and treetops, rocketing across Green Park before finally losing momentum and dropping in the center of the palace's courtyard.

"Nothin' but net."

Back inside the room Bella made her way to the closet. Flipping the lid of her lighter open and closed with one hand, the other unceremoniously pulled clothes from the hangers and tossed them behind her until she found something suitable to wear. Tonight was more about business than pleasure, so she would need something more sophisticated than the usual trashy garb used to attract the drunk, stoned and witless locals. Tonight she would need to find a new identity.

Women like Mica were the best: all alone in a strange, new city with no ties, no responsibilities, no one to raise suspicion and no rush. Nevertheless, women like Mica were also rare. Mostly Bella made due with tourists. If she couldn't find someone traveling alone, Bella would find a couple—young honeymooners were usually the most receptive. Their feigned love and happiness made her ill. Partially out of pity, partially out of disgust, the women received a swift, painless death via a broken neck; they never even realize their fate until it's already been delivered. The men, however, were more often than not pigs and got nothing short of what they deserved.

Others of Bella's kind would call it a waste; taking two humans and then simply snapping the neck of one of them, but Bella didn't have much of a choice, feeding off both was simply too much blood for her smaller frame anymore, now that her newborn bloodlust had died down. She had learned that the hard way years ago: being in such an uncomfortably gluttonous state caused her to become sluggish and nearly got her caught. She couldn't just feed from the women a little bit, either; use them to top off so to speak. In her world, it was all or nothing, lest she wanted to have to train newborns constantly. No, snapping their necks offered the least amount of hassle, even if it was a waste.

…_Her world._

Bella thought back to her former life as she stepped into the shower. Back when the thought of hurting someone else, let alone taking a life, purely for personal gain seemed ludicrous. Back when she had been the most harmless, selfless, naive person in the world. Perhaps too selfless... her selflessness put her into this position, after all, when you boiled it all down. If she had just stayed...

Bella shook the thought from her head. What was done was done and she needed to focus tonight. She put the final touches on the doorframe then stood back to survey her handy work. The room was thoroughly trashed and the damage to the doorframe made it look like someone had forced their way in. Picking up her Zippo and the pack of cigarettes from the bedside table and placing them into a small handbag, Bella once more opened up the window. She scanned the windows in the adjacent building and the courtyard between for anyone that might see her, and then made her way out onto the ledge before closing the window. Amica Lincoln was officially checked out.

She had originally planned to just step off the ledge and land inconspicuously in the courtyard beneath, but tonight was an unusually warm night for September and there were far too many people out enjoying it.

"Plan B."

Surveying the area one last time Bella turned, crouching slightly, and effortlessly leapt up the thirty feet to the roof of the hotel. She tapped another cigarette from the pack and made her way to the rear of the hotel to drop down silently in the back alley. The still, stale air between the buildings gradually gave way to the fresher night air as Bella emerged from the shadows and blended into the growing crowd on the main street, ignoring the cautious sideways glances and more blatant stares cast in her direction.

She still could not place the source of her unease, but if she dared to put words to it, it almost felt as if tonight would be a night of retribution... but for whom?

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*****

Edward nodded pleasant greetings to the maître d' and servers as he purposefully made his way to the raised platform that held a stunning Steinway Model A. He stepped up and walked a full circuit around it, his fingers trailing behind across the smooth, polished surface; caressing, familiarizing and harmonizing with the parlor grand. Sitting, he leaned in and breathed deep the scents of the maple and spruce body, the steel and copper strings, the polymer coated keys; focusing on the instrument before him, the catalyst for his long awaited reunion; ignoring the warm, sumptuous bodies that surrounded him and called to his ever-present thirst.

He had spent the past year searching for this piano, this bar. When he first started on his search it had been the first time in four years he had left the house of his own accord. Esme had implored him ceaselessly for years to go on a trip somewhere, anywhere, just as long as he got out of the house and at least attempted to enjoy himself again. Finally giving in and agreeing had been the best decision he ever made.

Smiling at his good fortune, Edward briefly closed his eyes and fired out a chromatic scale then let his fingers dance through a few different runs to check the tuning and petal response before beginning. It would be unlike a Steinway to be so out of sorts, but who knew what kind of incompetent amateurs had laid their hands on it before him. Satisfied, he started with Esme's Song, in honor of her insufferable pleading paying off for once.

The vision came so unexpectedly and was so intense Alice had been unable to hide it all from him, but what he had seen was enough. What he had seen was _she_.

It was the first solid vision Alice had had of her since she had left him for the Volturi four and a half years ago—the first that really offered anything of value. The rest had just been specters of visions, watery and fleeting, and invalid as soon as they came. She had remembered and learned well from Victoria.

Edward was only able to catch a second and a half of the vision before Alice gained control of her gift and locked him out of her mind, but it was more than enough. He was out the door and in his car before anyone else in the room had even realized anything was happening. A few seconds later Alice had called out to him in a panic, begging him to wait, trying to warn him of some implausible fate, regretting that she had shut him out from the rest of the vision, but she was a few seconds too late. His mind was set and he was finally going to find her and Alice knew there was nothing anyone could say or do to stop him.

He didn't know when the scene from the vision would take place, or where. All he knew was that it would be in an upscale place with red leather chairs, marble top tables and a piano. Even more, he knew that he would not give up until he found it. He began his search in Italy, her last known location, then spiraled out to the rest of Western Europe, meticulously scouring every bar, pub and restaurant he came across. It wasn't until he crossed over to England that he finally found it in an old Victorian building in Soho, London.

_Of course._

Carlisle had been talking with Esme about the two of them taking a private vacation to his homeland, which in turn had spurred another of her begging sessions. England had been on Edward's mind when he made the decision to give in to Esme. He should have realized the connection right away, but in his determinate haste, it went overlooked.

All of that was water under the bridge now. He was there. He had finally found the bar from the vision. The puzzle was nearly complete. The more he played the tighter the pieces pulled together and the more confident he became in that tonight would finally be the night—_his_ night—and oh, how he was going to enjoy it.

As one of the more stylish restaurants in Central London, not just anyone could walk in off the street and sit down at the piano to play. Only the finest pianists were booked to play in the Champagne Bar and the bill was always full. Conveniently for Edward, a series of very unfortunate events involving a trash bin the previous night prohibited the man originally billed to play from fulfilling his duties. Being the gentleman that Edward was he took it upon himself to stand in for the poor soul.

Right as predicted, an average looking man in an expensive silk suit came out of the back and made his way towards Edward, smiling and greeting patrons along the way, inquiring on their dining experiences, making sure everything was exceeding expectations and all-around acting like nothing was amiss. Along the way, Edward caught his name as Theodore Ellington—emphasis on the _Theodore_—Manager of the Oyster and Champagne Bar and, quite typically, an all-around supercilious prat.

"Pardon me, sir, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to cease and desist."

Theodore kept his round face calm and cordial so as not to worry any customers that may be watching and his voice private yet stern so that none but Edward's ears may overhear but the point would not be missed. In his mind however, he was screaming and throwing a fit like a spoiled child denied biscuits and clotted cream before bed. Edward took an unnoticeable pause amid his playing to school his own waning temper before answering the man.

When Edward's dark, measured gaze met Theodore's pompous hazel eyes, the manager's breath caught in his throat and the pulse in his neck skipped a beat before picking back up in double-time. His pupils dilated and the first hints of sweat broke out across his forehead as he struggled to keep his calm façade.

"Actually," Edward started in a friendly yet equally stern voice, as a teacher would to a misbehaving student, "I'm here to fill in for Mr. Partington. He came to find himself in a rather awkward position and he's going to be unavailable for an indefinite amount of time. I can promise you he felt rather torn about the whole ordeal. Surely he phoned ahead to inform you of the situation, Ted."

Stumbling through an array of incomplete, exasperated thoughts, Theodore's face turned red and his jaw worked without sound for a moment before he regained his composure and found his voice. Breaking eye contact, he glanced down and smoothed his tie.

"Ah, it's _Theodore_, actually, Mr...?"

"Cullen," Edward stated simply as he seamlessly and elegantly transitioned from Esme's Song into a well-known contemporary piece.

Theodore's eyes wandered to Edward's hands then up his arms, noting the caged power behind his graceful moves; a deeply closeted fantasy snaked its way up behind the fear.

"Well, Mr. Cullen, I never received any such message from Mr. Partington. But, seeing as you're already here playing," his gaze slid across Edward's broad shoulders and paused on the muscles flexing in Edward's jaw, "and we have no one else to fill in on such short notice..."

Theodore cleared his throat and rolled his hand in a vague gesture over the piano keys, bouncing slightly on his toes. "You may continue."

"I was so hoping you'd say that, Ted."

When Theodore opened his mouth to correct Edward on his name again, Edward casually locked eyes with the man once more and smiled.

"If that's everything, Ted, I'd like to focus on my playing."

The fantasy recoiled quickly to its closet, which then retreated even deeper into the depths of shamed denial as fear dominated the manager, flashing across his features and through his mind. He had to clear his throat twice more before he could breathe properly again. After nodding absently a few times, Theodore finally backed away and walked off woodenly.

Growing tired of the modern piece and impatient for his long-awaited reunion, Edward skipped to the ending, earning many displeased thoughts and glares from the customers.

But their thoughts meant nothing as his breath quickened and he started in on _her_ Lullaby.


	2. Just Dessert: A Short Story Part II

**A/N: Thanks to everyone that read last week, hopefully you come back to read some more. Don't be afraid to share it with your friends, either ;)**

**P.S. F-bomb alert**.

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Try as she might, Bella could not shake the discomfort growing in her stomach as she made her way up a crowded Piccadilly. Twice already, she had passed up on perfectly adequate candidates, making superficial excuses: the woman's face wasn't the right shape, her hair was too short or too curly, her lips were too small or her body too big. She nit-picked at things that didn't even matter in the end, so long as there was at least some semblance between Bella and the picture on the ID card. It rarely came down to a point where she actually needed it, but Bella liked to have it match just in case.

It really didn't have to be this way. Aro _had_ offered to set Bella up properly, make it so she would never have to want for anything ever again, no matter where she went.

Shop shutters rattled down around her as she pulled her lighter from her pocket, rubbing her thumb across the engraving on it before absently flipping the lid open and closed. Her mind started to wander back to her time with the Volturi but didn't get far before she was rudely brought back to the present.

"Oi! Hey, hey, hey there, love. Why such a serious look on such a pretty face?"

With short, spiked hair, soft brown eyes and a kind, crooked smile, the human could have been considered attractive—if his eyes weren't also bloodshot and glazed over and he didn't stink of hops and barley, stale smoke from a cheap batch of skunk weed and really atrocious cologne.

"Move along." Bella flicked her fingers in the young man's face and continued walking, putting her flared thirst in check.

A warm fist clamped around her wrist and she spun around to stop face-to-face with the man who looked more like he was standing on a boat at sea than on solid ground; how he had even managed to catch Bella's arm so fast was a miracle in its own. She locked eyes with him but before the warning growl could escape her throat he let go of her wrist, his eyes growing wide.

"Now _those_ are wicked contacts. They look so bloody real! Wait, that's that new experimental eye surgery isn't it? I thought I overheard some nancy talking about it on the news..."

It took a moment for Bella to figure out what the dipsomaniac was ranting about. She stood staring at his eyes as he blinked them frequently against the dryness that plagued them.

Realization smashed into her as she habitually blinked her own eyes.

_Contacts._

She had been so distracted by the strange feeling troubling her all evening that she never put any contacts in to cover the deep red of her eyes.

Normally she didn't bother when she was out "Trick or Treating"—in those cases they acted more like the esca on an anglerfish, luring her prey in close enough for her to strike—but getting close enough to a prospective identity was a different story. She had to persuade them to let their guard down and trust her enough to share the information she sought. Red eyes didn't exactly scream, "_don't worry, I'm harmless,_" and did her no good when it came time to secure a new identity, so she hid them behind dark brown contacts. Contacts her infallible vampire mind managed to forget—another warning flag for the night.

The man turned to call his friends over and Bella took the opportunity to scan her surroundings. The inebriated git was building a spotlight over her and she needed to find a way out.

A large group of people were just starting to walk past and Bella checked to make sure the man was still preoccupied with convincing his friends to come check out her eyes before making her move. Then as quickly as she could without drawing more attention to herself, Bella cut up the middle of the crowd—side-stepping, dodging and sliding around and between the humans with grace and ease she could only ever dream of when she was human—and took the first side street she came to.

Mentally scolding herself, Bella reached into her handbag for a cigarette. As she pulled the last one from the pack and started to put it between her lips, the fine hairs at the back of her neck stiffened. The honey-sweet taste was back, still just lingering faintly on the night air, but potent enough this time without the cigarette smoke to reveal an almost-lilac-and-sunshine twist.

As cool as her body already was, a chill still managed to pass down Bella's spine. She had not felt this way since she was human—that alone should have been reason enough to turn around and walk the other way, yet she still found herself drawn further down the small street, overcome with unexpected curiosity. This street was the center of it all. This street held the answer to her peculiar feeling.

Not far down the street outside an old brick Victorian building, the cigarette dropped from Bella's hand and a dark curse fell from her lips as she stopped dead in her tracks and the world froze around her. The chords of the most beautiful song Bella had ever heard snaked out the doorway like the tentacles of a monster, wrapping around her, squeezing closed her throat and clutching at her long-stilled heart. The most beautiful song she had ever heard, and the one song she never wanted to hear again for the rest of her existence.

_Her Lullaby._

Carefully locked away memories pushed frantically against the confines of their dark closets, threatening to immerse Bella in their emotional chaos. She clenched her teeth so hard in determination against the mental attack she could have bitten through the depleted uranium armor of a tank as if it were softened butter.

The world started moving again and Bella found her feet moving with it towards the door of the bar.

"_Care will kill a cat_." Aro's favorite adage echoed through Bella's mind.

"_What, courage man!" _Caius would always quote Shakespeare in answer._ "What though care killed a cat; thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care._"

Caius and Shakespeare were right. Bella had nothing to be worried about, she had told him to never come searching for her. The power was still in her hands. Squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin, the invisible tentacles released their choking grip and instead lead the way as Bella marched pointedly through the doors ignoring the questioning staff and avoiding direct eye contact with anyone.

Red leather chairs reminiscent of flower petals ringed pale, marble-top tables on the oak floor as matching stools lined the marble-top bar. The quiet conversations of the patrons that occupied nearly every available seat filled the air around the song like the drone of honeybees. Old paintings of fish adorned the light wood-paneled walls, and despite the casual, calm, understated luxury the place tried to project, there were no misgivings in how upscale it was.

Opposite the bar near the back was a raised platform that held a polished and impressive grand piano. At the keys was none other than Desperado himself.

_Edward._

Bella stifled back a growl as she made her way to the near end of the bar, her eyes never leaving him as he sat with his eyes closed and his body gently swaying like reeds in an autumn breeze. He was lost to the world around him, completely engrossed in the song. Not nearly as lavish as he used to play since he was restricted to playing at a human speed, her lullaby was still achingly beautiful despite the sharp new edge he added to it.

It was that new edge and how he played the song as if wielding a battle-axe that gave him away. Without it Bella would have been willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, to accept that even as far-fetched as it was, the crossing of their paths was just coincidence. But the determination, the purpose, the expectation he poured into her lullaby gave away all of his deepest secrets: this was as far from coincidence as one could get. This was planned.

She had warned him against this. Judging by his playing, her warning had not been enough and now he was going to have to pay for his actions. Some lessons, it seemed, were only learned the hard way. Bella let a small grin curl her lips. A night of redemption indeed, and it was looking to be in her favor.

With Edward's attention still focused on his playing, he had not yet noticed Bella.

"Tag, you're it," she murmured before turning and walking out of the bar.

At the entrance she stopped and made a point of touching the frame and the door, pretending to use the reflection in the glass panels to inspect her lipstick as she leaned in close to breathe her scent all over it. Edward had never been any good at tracking, but Bella had a feeling he was going to enthusiastically increase his efforts this time.

To help control the urge to go back and take care of Edward right then and there, Bella tried to put her mind back on her search. Unsuccessful in her attempts, though, she eventually gave up on finding a new identity. The more she tried to focus on her hunt, the more difficult it became and the harder the memories pounded against their restraints. Giving in to them, she carefully let them out and examined them one by one with as much indifference as possible—like a judge viewing the different pieces of evidence of a crime—as she wandered unsystematically through central London.

It had all started five years ago—Bella paused slightly mid-stride, five years ago yesterday to be precise. While lying on the table in Carlisle's study, trapped in the agonizing, burning pits of her own private Hell as the venom coursed through her veins, repairing and upgrading her body from the inside out, new pieces of the puzzle that had been her life in Forks had started coming to light and filling in the gaps where her sad, human mind hadn't been able to.

The biggest thing she had never been able to understand when she was human was _why_ her? No matter how many times Edward had professed his love for Bella; she had always found it hard to believe. She was just a silly, stupid, frail little human after all, what about her was there to love besides her blood? _Why_ did he love her the way he did? There was an answer to it all and she knew that deep down she already knew it, but something was still missing, the final piece that would finish the big picture.

Waking up and seeing Edward for the first time with her new eyes and realizing she wanted him more than she wanted blood had come as such a shock and surprise that it shoved Bella's worries back deep into the recesses of her mind. She had felt silly for ever worrying about anything. She had the perfect life: a doting husband, a beautiful daughter, an amazing new family and eternity to spend with all of them. Why had she ever doubted any of it?

Then, with her eyes truly open for the first time in her life, she finally started to see things for what they really were. No longer just a silly, stupid, frail little human, Edward was unable to hide things from Bella as he could before and the final piece started taking shape.

It began with the contemptible looks Bella would catch coming from Edward whenever she spent time with Renesmee, and if her attention ever became too focused on her daughter, Edward would find a way to bring the focus back to him. Figuring he was having trouble adapting to being a father, Bella had tried her best to balance time between the two people most important to her. But no matter how much love and attention Bella showered Edward with, each day his charade that everything was perfect and beautiful became more and more transparent and she was able to see better the deep jealousy over Renesmee growing inside him.

Then it happened: the second most painful experience of Bella's existence.

Bella reached into her hand bag for a cigarette and was met with the empty pack.

"Fuck." She crumpled the pack in her fist and chucked it in a trash bin as she walked past.

Looking at the people around her for the first time since the bar where she saw Edward, she noticed a man stepping out of a pub a few meters in front of her to light a cigarette. Timing it just so, she plucked the cigarette from his mouth as soon as he lit it and continued walking; giving it a good pull to make sure the embers took and stayed lit.

"Cheers," she called over her shoulder to the stunned man, lifting the cigarette over her head in a mock toast.

Even by vampire terms, Bella's conception of Renesmee was an improbable supernatural phenomenon. Despite the incubuses of their kind, it was still incomprehensible that, should a female human somehow survive the act of sex with a male vampire, his seed would carry the necessary spark of life; let alone be compatible enough with her ovum to germinate and grow into a life form. Everyone understandably assumed that given the far superior structure of vampires and their supremely predatory nature, if the female human did manage to survive the sexual assault, the egg would not survive the semen.

That Bella not only lived through sex with Edward but also conceived and carried his child nearly to term was an earth-shattering miracle. Renesmee's existence not only created doors where none were thought to be able to exist, but also blew them wide open.

Four all-too-short months later, Leah, while accompanying her brother, Seth; whom was hunting with Jake, Renesmee and Edward; out of nowhere had attacked and swiftly slaughtered Renesmee. Edward and Jake then attacked Leah to try and stop her and, torn between friends or family, Seth ended up taking his sister's side. In the end, Edward and Jake killed Leah and then Jake and Seth killed each other. Edward had been the only one to walk away alive and unscathed.

That was the story as Edward told it, and that was the story that everyone believed. They all knew how much Leah loathed Renesmee for imprinting with Jake and that it was only a matter of time before she snapped. But no one would have ever guessed that she would have actually attacked and killed Renesmee, they all just figured she eventually would have run off on her own and started a new life free from it all.

Even though Jake, Seth and Leah were considered traitorous leech-lovers and no longer a part of Sam's pack, they were still Quileutes and it was still against the treaty to attack them, let alone kill them—for any reason. Bella and the family had packed up their personal mementos and abandoned their house in the Olympic Peninsula within the hour, moving all the way across the country to a gorgeous 19th century mansion nestled in the White Mountain National Forests of New Hampshire.

Once settled in, Bella finally allowed herself to grieve over the loss of her daughter and her best friend. She shut herself in her room and sat for days wishing, willing her cold, hard, vampire body to shed just one tear. The tear never came but Edward did, frequently. Bearing witness to his daughter's own death seemed to cause no disquiet in him. If anything, Edward had become more talkative, lighter, happier. It seemed like he was there at Bella's side nearly every hour trying to get her attention; his mouth at her neck, his hands on her body, his breath in her ear whispering about how much more time they'd have together now that they were alone. Never once did he console her, never once had he simply held her and shared in her heartache, her sorrow.

When Bella had finally moved, finally acknowledged his presence and looked up into his eyes, the spell around her shattered and everything at last became clear. The puzzle was finished, the questions were answered, and the answer had been staring her in the face since the first day she had laid eyes on Edward: he didn't love _her_. He never loved her. He loved the idea of not being alone anymore, of not being the odd man out, the seventh wheel. All he had been looking for was a damn _mate_. He simply chose her because of her timid, bendable nature caused by her naivety to the world around her and her silent, shielded mind.

Hind-sight being 20/20, it was easy to look back on her old life in Forks and see how Edward had played her as easily as he played his piano. After spending the better part of his vampire life creeping around high schools and colleges reading the malleable, confused, hormone driven minds of teenage humans, manipulating her, _dazzling_ her, must have been a cake walk.

Bella dropped her arm and flicked the butt straight down at the pavement with enough force to cause a small explosion. Sparks, tobacco and chunks of filter showered down on her feet and the feet of those around her. Stopping with the crowd at a corner and waiting for the light to turn in their favor, Bella noticed a brand new pack of cigarettes sticking out of the side pocket of a purse in front of her. The light changed and in the commotion of everyone pressing to get across the street, Bella relieved the woman of her pack and headed down a side alley, stripping the plastic wrapping off the box and pulling free a fresh cigarette.

After finally seeing the light but then having nowhere else to go, Bella had turned to Aro. Confused, distraught and angry, she poured her heart out to him. Interest and avid desire had flared in his eyes when she told him about Renesmee, but to his credit, in the two years, eight months and twenty-six days Bella spent with the Volturi, Aro never once pressed her for any more information than what she openly offered that first day she shared her story.

Bella learned quickly just how wrong her prejudice against the Volturi had been. The three men opened their coven to Bella, never once demanding anything in return. They gave her anything she asked for, from solitude to help, and offered so much more.

Demetri taught her the basics of hunting and tracking prey and foes while Felix and Santiago took pride in turning her into a lethal fighting machine. Jane and Alec worked with Bella on her shielding abilities, attempting to see if she could project it and use it to shield others like Renata did for Aro, or drop it entirely. Bella thought Jane had ulterior motives when she first suggested that Bella try to drop her shield, but seeing Bella's hesitation, Jane had quickly dismissed the old tension there had been between the two.

"The 'bad blood' as you could call it, died when you did," Jane had said reassuringly as she softly kissed Bella on each cheek. "And even if it hadn't, you are a revered guest of Aro's—family even, if you'd like—and will be treated as such."

Bella never thought that she would ever feel exhaustion again as a vampire, but spending hour upon hour learning to manipulate her shield was far more draining than she ever imagined. Quite often after her sessions with Jane and Alec, Bella would spend time with Marcus recovering. Those were perhaps her favorite times from her stay in Volterra.

The first time Bella and Marcus shared company she had been wandering the halls and rooms of the ancient basilica the Volturi and their guard called home. She had come across a large tapestry and paused to admire its beautifully detailed depiction of a countryside of gently rolling fields dotted with trees and flowers, all golden and red in the light of the distant setting sun. A presence to her right had brought Bella out of her awe and when she looked, she saw it was Marcus.

After staring at the tapestry for a moment, he had turned away from Bella and moved down the hall a short way to a heavy wooden door. While he never looked at Bella or spoke any words to her, she had known he wanted her to follow.

The room behind the door was large and round like the main turret where the Volturi granted audience, fed, and generally spent most of their time. Instead of holding the three Volturi thrones, however, the center of this room held a spiral staircase made of wood and wrought iron that led to three round landings, designed so that one could view the tapestries that covered the walls of the turret from floor to ceiling.

There were hundreds of them, all different sizes with all different types of subjects; from portraitures—Aro, Caius and Marcus all among them—to more landscapes like the one in the hall, seascapes, vases of flowers, bowls of fruits, Gods and Goddesses, lovers in bed, mythical creatures, ornate designs, battles won and battles lost. Every one full of astounding detail and emotion; the wall of paintings in Carlisle's study held nothing on this room.

Bella had followed Marcus to the center landing where he stood at the very edge and stared at the tapestry hanging on the wall across from them.

The largest tapestry in the room and the most powerful, it was also the only one that hung unfinished. Rooted in place next to Marcus, Bella could only stare at the nearly life-size, incomplete masterpiece of two wild horses running free together, leaving a herd of other horses in the distance behind them. Their heads tossed in grand defiance, their dark manes and tails flowing out behind them and tangling together. The detail in it was profound. Bella had thought surely if she were to be able to touch the tapestry hanging on the wall, that she would feel the hardened muscles of the horses and the smooth coats that covered them instead of the thin cotton threads that made them up. No human hand or eye would have ever been able to create anything like it. It was the craft-work of a vampire. Bella briefly wondered if Marcus had been the one to make it, but the way he looked at the tapestry with such longing and sadness, she knew he had not.

During her stay, Bella had visited the room often by herself and viewed the other tapestries, but whenever she was with Marcus, she stood silently with him and admired the horse tapestry.

"It is called _'__Spiritus vestri iste singular, consurgo et vivo'._" Marcus had said one day.

It was the first time Bella had ever heard Marcus speak. His voice was as fragile and transparent as his skin, soft like the whisper of a downy feather falling in the dark, yet it broke through the silence of the turret like a siren.

Bella could only turn and stare at the profile of Marcus' papery face as he looked on at the tapestry.

"She was so beautiful, my Didyme," he continued gently after a few moments. "Like a warm summer breeze on Tír na nÓg, everything was happy and perfect around her."

Marcus turned to look Bella in the eyes, the cloudy red of his irises intense and searing, like a sun hidden behind storm clouds trying to burn free. "We were going to move on together, start our own life. Just the two of us..."

He looked back, the fire in his eyes dwindling down to nothing like the legs of the wild horses that trailed down into the loose strings of the unfinished edge.

"Then she was murdered out of selfishness."

Bella's mouth had formed a soft _'oh'_ as the understanding swept across her.

"_'Spiritus vestri iste singular'_," he repeated with conviction as he turned to Bella again, his eyes flaming anew, piercing through down to her soul, "_'consungo et vivo'_: 'Your life is yours alone, rise up and live it'. Do not dwell in the sorrow; do not let the pain rule you as I have let it rule me."

The next day Bella had decided to end her stay in Volterra and move on.

"At least come back and visit," Aro had insisted after Bella had first turned down his invitation to stay permanently, and then his offer for continued financial help.

"I promise," she gently kissed his onionskin cheek. "Thank you for your kind hospitality."

Bella hunched over, cupping her hands around the flickering flame coming from her lighter to keep it from going out as she lit another cigarette. Snapping the lid closed, she drew her thumb across the delicate scrolled engraving.

_ Spiritus vestri iste singular, consurgo et vivo._

"_My_ life," she said softly as she gently squeezed the lighter and tucked it safely back into her handbag.

* * *

**A/N: Fun Fact Time!**

**Fun Fact 1: "_Care will kill a cat_" is the original version of the popular "_Curiosity killed the cat_" adage, but, in the 16th century "care", when used in that way, meant "worry".**

** Fun Fact 2:_ "Spiritus vestri iste singular, consurgo et vivo" _is (hopefully lol) **** Latin, and while I don't actually know Latin, I did my best referring to three different sites to get what I felt was the best translation of the original phrase: "Your life is yours alone, rise up and live it", which is the final line of the book _Confessor _by Terry Goodkind. Seeing as how this isn't actually a Terry Goodkind fanfic, I hope Mr. Goodkind still won't mind my use of such an inspirational phrase.**

**Fun Fact 3: The island of _Tír na nÓg_ is the most popular of the Otherworlds in Irish mythology. It was "a place where sickness and death did not exist. It was a place of eternal youth and beauty. There, music, strength, life, and all pleasurable pursuits came together in a single place. There happiness lasted forever; no one wanted for food or drink. It was the Irish equivalent of the Greek Elysium, or the Valhalla of the Norse." ***en[dot]wikipedia[dot]org/wiki/Tír_na_nÓg  
**Basically, being on _Tír na nÓg _was like being a vampire, but without the pesky side-effects of blood lust and being technically dead and stuff :p_  
_**


	3. Just Dessert: A Short Story Part III

**A/N: I present to you, la fin. This was so fun to write, you don't even know...  
**

**Oh, and one more F-bomb, sorreh :p  
**

* * *

Straightening up, the wind whipped Bella's hair around her face as she looked out across the grand sprawl of London. Relaxing her mind, she let a thin layer of her shield slide out around her; when used this way, it had proven to become an excellent early warning system. Any time someone stepped within the bounds they showed up as kind of a spark in her mind, like a radar beacon. Humans and the vampires that fed on humans, showed up as red sparks—though the humans were more vivid and pulsed somewhat as their hearts pumped their fresh, hot blood through their bodies. Bella could only assume Edward would show up as more of a brownish color, much like the inferior food he and the rest of the Cullens preferred to consume.

Bella wrinkled her nose in disgust at the memory of such things. When she had woken up from her transformation, even through Esme's obsessive-compulsive cleaning habits, Bella had still been able to detect all the blood she had lost when Edward removed Renesmee from her stomach. It had been the most amazing smell ever—even if it was tainted with chlorine and ammonia. Out on her first hunt, the sharp, tangy smell of elk had churned her empty vampire stomach in comparison to the memory of the rich, sweet hints of her own human blood; like the difference between hot-fudge brownies and steamed spinach to a child. Mountain lion ranked little better than elk despite Edward's insistence that the carnivores tasted closer to humans than the herbivores did.

That very first day, even though she hadn't actually tasted human blood, Bella understood wholly Jasper's struggle with the Cullen lifestyle. He put up with it out of love and devotion to Alice, so Bella had thought without a doubt that she would be able to do it for Edward, too, but when Bella came to her senses after Renesmee's death, there was no longer any need to continue the degrading practice.

Even so, Bella's animosity was purely towards Edward. The rest of the Cullens were innocent and Bella still loved them and considered them family. The thought of she Edward existing in the same universe after all he had done repulsed her, but the thought of leaving the others tore her apart. It was for them and them alone that Bella had stayed as long as she did after figuring out Edward's secret.

She had made it clear to Edward that he needed to keep away from her, and while the rest of the Cullens were around, he generally had. Nevertheless, Bella was unable to keep herself surrounded by others at all times and eventually needed some time alone to think, so one day when Emmett and Rose had had Edward distracted by car talk in the garage, Bella had taken off into the woods.

The freedom and solitude felt wonderful. In a release of all the emotions pent up inside of her Bella had ran as fast as she could, weaving narrowly through the trees, leaping over some, exploding her fist through the trunks of others as she streaked past. She had been swinging through the branches like a gymnast, about ready to head to her favorite boulder to take out some aggression on it, when she came across the unmistakable scent of a lone hiker.

Her plan tossed to the wayside; there were only two things in Bella's mind after that: the painful thirst in her throat that relentlessly burned for relief, and the decadent scent she knew would quench it properly, the scent that from her rebirth had far surpassed Edward's scent, and claimed its rightful place as her favorite scent ever.

When she darted further up a tree to get a better visual on her prey as he headed for a small clearing, the wind unexpectedly shifted. It had gusted in from the west and carried with it an unmistakable stench. Edward had chased after her.

Being barely seven months old at the time, she was still just faster than he was. Her blood lust broken, Bella jumped out of the tree. She hit the ground running and reached the hiker right as Edwards bellowed protests rang in the human's ears.

When the hiker turned toward her she had leapt, low and quick, plucking the man from ground and landing on the other side of the clearing. She ripped his over-sized pack from his stunned body and threw him over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes as she ran deep into the trees on the far side of the meadow.

"Bella!" Edward's voice had echoed with it. "Bella you don't want to do this! Leave the human alone!"

Edward's plea made her stop short. She dropped the man, who had by then fainted out of fear, and held his limp form up by his long, greasy hair as she turned toward Edward.

"You don't want to do this." Edward had repeated.

"Oh?" Bella mocked a confused look. "And why not?"

"It's not who you are, Bella."

Bella sauntered up to Edward, dragging the man behind her. "And who am I, exactly, Edward?"

"You're not a killer," he partially answered.

Bella masked the ire that flooded through her with a playful smirk.

"Oh come on, Edward, just this once? Let Rosalie have her 'perfect' record, I want to live a little."

Bella traded her grip on the man's hair for his arm. She held it up between them and sliced into his forearm with the fingernail of her other hand. The pure, untainted aroma of the man's freshly spilled blood assaulted her senses and made her head spin, yet somehow she had managed to keep control and dipped the first two fingers of her right hand into the long trickle of blood. She sucked one clean as a soft moan escaped her lips. Next to Bella, Edward's had eyes had rolled back and closed as he struggled with his own thirst.

"Edward…" Bella had drawn out his name in a sickly-sweet, seductively playful fashion as she wiped the blood from her other finger across his lips, "have some fun with me." She licked the remaining blood from her finger and moaned again with more earnest. "Oh my God, it's the best. You were right; it _is_ like heroine… what a trip…."

Edward had just stood solid as a marble statue, not breathing, not moving.

Bella _tsked_ at him. "Such a waste."

She had shrugged and turned to drink fully from the man when she heard Edward spit.

"I know you're upset over Renesmee's death, but you don't need to do this, Bella," Edward spoke just before her lips touched the cut on the man's arm.

"You're right," Bella pulled away and turned back to Edward. There was blood smeared on the arm of his shirtsleeve and relief washed across his face.

"I don't _need_ to do this." She let the man drop to the ground between them then stepped on the back of his neck as if she were putting out a cigarette; his vertebrae snapped under her toes like popcorn.

"But I _wanted_ to, Edward, and you of all people should know what it's like to want something. To want it real bad, to want it all for yourself and never have to share it with anyone or anything and to do whatever it takes to make it that way."

The corners of Edward's mouth had twitched as the implication hung heavily in the air.

The corners of Bella's mouth twitched then also, but not in guilt.

"You were right you know. You're no good for me, Edward."

Edward scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous—"

Bella took a step back. "I don't want you anymore. What happened back in Forks made me realize it's time for a change. Because I'm… _tired_ of pretending to be something I'm not, Edward."

Recognition flared in Edward's eyes when he realized what she was doing.

"Don't do this," he interrupted her, falling so easily into his role, echoing the same words she had whispered to him scant more than a year prior in the woods outside her father's home on the other side of the continent. Back then, Edward had needed to break her heart and crush her spirit so he could manipulate her under the guise of protecting her, but Bella wasn't trying to protect him from anything.

"I am not in love with you, Edward." She dropped the bomb. "I never was, not truly. What we—what _I_ had for you, it was just angst-driven, hormonal teenage lust at best. It could have grown into something more, sure, but then you had to go and _murder_ my daughter and my best friend! And now… now I'm through with this charade."

She stared him down as he had quickly searched her face for any sign of weakness, any chink in her armor that he could weasel his way through, but her brick eyes were solid and impassive. Not because she was trying to hide anything from him, but because the door was shut, he was no longer welcome.

With a small jerk of her head, she turned to walk away, out of his life forever. No favors of safety, no promises that it would be as if she never existed. Of course, the latter would be impossible. A vampire's beyond perfect recollection was both a blessing and a curse. Though easily distracted, it would take a special kind of shield to erase another vampire's memories. Bella might be able to block her mind from him, but blocking his own memories from himself was beyond any ability ever heard of.

Unwilling to give in as easily as she had when she was human, Edward had lunged out to stop Bella, but before he was able get a well enough grip on her, she reached back expectantly and yanked on his forthcoming arm. Caught off guard and reeling forward off balance, Bella then delivered a swift kick to the backs of his knees and a blow to the center of his back so that he found himself face-down on the muddy forest floor, his left arm wrenched up painfully between his shoulder blades and a knee firmly pressed into his lower lumbar.

"No!" she exploded at him while the thought of how easy he had been to subdue when he didn't have the advantage of reading her thoughts, and how entertained Emmett would have been at that little piece of information, passed briefly through her mind.

Recomposing herself, she then spoke in a slow and precise voice that mocked a loving tone on the surface, but had so much fury coursing underneath that it chilled even Edward's cool skin.

"No. You don't get to dictate my life anymore. I just got done telling you, I. Don't. Want. You. Any. More. _I don't love you_. So I'm leaving and I'm never coming back, and you don't ever get to try and stop me or search for me or beg me to change my mind. And, just in case you still don't understand…."

There had been a grinding sound, like rough stones scrapping against each other, as Bella twisted Edward's ring finger clean off his hand.

She then leaned down and put her face cheek-to-cheek with his, pressing her knee harder into his back and pulling his arm up even higher in the process. He unwillingly grunted his discomfort as she held his finger out for both of them to see, twirling it between her index finger and thumb by the gold band that hugged the base of it.

"Next time," she whispered gently as she turned slightly to nuzzle the side of his face and nip his high cheekbone with her teeth, "it will be your pretentious fucking head."

She pressed him further into the mud before she sat up, and with a flick of her wrist sent his dismembered digit off like a dagger to stick in the trunk of a nearby fir tree. When she stood, she had placed the heel of her boot millimeters from his nose in a dare to make another wrong move before continuing forward.

"Oh, and Edward," her voice rang out and she waited until he turned his head to look up at her. She had stopped by the fir to slide something onto his finger and a light, metal-on-metal _clink_ had revealed that it was her own wedding ring.

* * *

"I told you not to hold any hope for black, blasphemous lies, Edward," Bella breathed coolly while Edward jumped from pod to pod, shadow to shadow, to the top of the Eye and the end of his wild goose hunt.

"I also warned you that if you ever tried to find me, I'd tear your head off. I see Carlisle did an excellent job reattaching your finger. Unfortunately for you, I'm going to make sure there's nothing left to put back together this time."

"I didn't try to find you; you found me then left me this absurd trail."

Bella let out a sensually throaty laugh as she turned toward him, flicking a cigarette butt out into the Thames. "You're as bad of a liar as I used to be. You're losing your edge, Edward."

The absolute disgust with which she said his name slammed into him every time it shot from her mouth and it was beautiful. The angrier she was, the more he would enjoy breaking her down again. He had daydreamed about it as he sat at the piano in the Champagne Bar, playing out her submission and his victory over and over, sampling how different variables would feel to see which one would satisfy the most.

His eyes slid up her body and over her curves hungrily. "The past four and a half years have been good to you."

Transformation had expectantly boosted Bella's self-worth. She had walked taller and straighter and held her head higher as a newborn than she had as a human. But now, the over-confidence in the knowledge and experience she had gained living as a nomad manifested even in the casual way she stood on the topmost pod slightly above him. Her cockiness excited him. No doubt these first five years have felt like an eternity to her, but when you've lived for a hundred and ten years, it feels more like five minutes. While her knowledge now far surpassed her knowledge then, she would never be able to know as much as he knew, learn as much has he had. Being able to read minds, not only did he know everything he had ever learned, he knew everything everyone else had ever learned as well. Dazzling Bella—as she had called it—would be just as easy now as it had been back then.

"You don't even know," Bella allowed a brief coy smile before settling into her indecipherable game face. "But flattery will get you nowhere so stop trying to change the subject. Why are you here, Edward?"

It was not a pleasant query between old friends; it was a demand, and the perfect opening to start making his move. Edward didn't have to read Bella's mind to know that she was presumptuous enough to think that she was in control of the situation; domination was his specialty, not hers.

Dropping his chin, Edward looked up at Bella from under his lashes and smiled the crooked smile he knew she couldn't resist.

"What can I say?" he shrugged, taking a step forward and effortlessly leaping across the gap separating the two pods they were standing on, landing nose to nose with her before she could protest.

"I missed you," he breathed on her.

She glared at him but didn't move as he reached up and gently smoothed away the crease between her brows with his thumb then caressed her cheekbone with the backs of his knuckles.

Leaning in, he moved around her right side. Brushing the hair back off her shoulder, he grazed the hollow behind her earlobe with his nose, breathing in deeply. "I missed your smell."

Continuing around her backside, pulling her hair aside some more, his tongue trailed along the base of her neck and his lips danced across her skin. "I missed your taste."

Coming around to stand in front of her again, his fingers released her hair and trailed vaporously from her left shoulder, across her cleavage, down her side and around the front of her right thigh. "I missed your _heat_."

He snapped his teeth millimeters from her nose then rested his forehead against hers as he brought his hands up to cradle the sides of her face. "I missed _you_," he said again, pressing his hardened groin against her to emphasize his words.

A faint guttural sound escaped Bella's throat as she snaked her slender arms up between Edward's, breaking his hands away from her face, and wove her fingers through his hair. He moved his hands down to her hips which were swaying slightly against his. Just like that, she was putty in his hands once more.

Pulling back slightly, he saw a sparkle in Bella's eyes as she bit her lip and a tiny smile pulled at the corners of her mouth.

Smiling back, Edward leaned in for the kill.

"Mm," Bella moaned into Edward's open mouth as the space between their lips grew precariously thin. "I… just…."

Keeping one hand firmly gripped in his hair, Bella slid the other down his cheek, her thumb pinching his chin as if she were afraid he'd turn away before their lips met.

Edward exulted inwardly. It was just too easy!

A shattering pain rocketing through his body interrupted his internal gloating. A heavy _thud_ came from the roof of the pod as Edward struggled to fight back. His eyes shot open in horror as realization resonated through him with the second _thud_. It was his body, which had slumped to its knees before Bella kicked it off to the side. Greeting his appalled stare were two, bright and shining eyes.

"…Can't believe you'd think I'd fall for all of that bullshit _again_, Edward!"

Still gripping Edward's head, Bella threw her own back and laughed a full and unrestrained laugh that echoed out into the night. Edward tried to move his mouth to curse at her, but found himself without a voice or a properly working mouth. She had twisted off his head at the very top of his neck, effectively removing his voice box and dislocating his jawbone.

"This was just too easy!" Bella called into the night sky, paralleling his previous thought, before moving to his body. Gripping Edward's head by his hair, she knelt down and swiftly started twisting off his arms and legs.

"I have to admit, I expected more of a challenge from you, Edward," she said as she worked. "Apparently you never learned a thing from any of the other times you let your pecker do all the thinking. I had thought briefly of ripping it off first, but…"

Bella rolled over what was left of his frame and grabbed at his nether region, ripping it wholly from his body.

"Oh yeah, that was definitely still satisfying. Hold this for me, will you?"

Staring blankly in complete disbelief, his mouth frozen open, barely registering what was happening around him as he tried desperately to figure out just where he went wrong, Edward was jolted back to the present when Bella shoved his own member between his lips, forcing his teeth into the base of the shaft just above the scrotum which hung against his chin.

"That look really suits you, you know," Bella smirked as she stacked the rest of the pieces of his body into a pile with her free hand. When she was done, she reached towards a handbag lying nearby on the pod and withdrew a small metal object.

The moonlight glinted off the lighter as in one swift motion Bella flicked the lid open and struck the flint. Chagrined, Edward was stuck, hanging helplessly by his hair with his own cock shoved balls-deep in his mouth as she reached out and lit the collar of his shirt on fire. The cotton took well enough even on the windy top of the London Eye, but once the flames reached the jagged edges of his torn flesh they bolted across his body as if shot from a flamethrower.

Bella jumped back from the fire to a safe distance and made sure Edward had a clear view of his burning body as she stood watching it for a moment, humming the Happy Birthday song. Thick purple smoke quickly started billowing up and the wind did its best to spread the heavy, putrid smell out across London. Already a ghastly ring of it was building up around the top of Big Ben.

"Spiritus vestri iste singular, consurgo et vivo," he heard her say quietly to herself when she finished the song, and then she lifted his head up and turned it to face her, a dark satisfaction settling over the triumphant glee. "Thanks for the birthday present, but it's time to say good-bye now, Edward."

With that, she tossed his head unceremoniously into the fire.

* * *

Gently holding her lighter between her lips, Bella dusted her hands off on her trousers then sprang over to the next pod out of the ring of light created by the fire. She could hear the engines of the fireboats starting up in the distance.

Casting one last glance back at the blazing pile formerly known as Edward Cullen, she took the Zippo from her lips and cradled it in her hand. The lighter was her only possession and had been her greatest companion since she left Volterra and started her life as a nomad. It had helped her stay focused and level-headed through her troubled time. But her troubles were over, now. She was truly free to rise up and live her life. Bella gave her little metal friend a gentle squeeze then tossed it up into the fire.

"I could really go for some Greek," she said as she turned back toward the water and dove off the pod, the lighter creating a small explosion behind her as she dropped lithely into the Thames and swam away.

* * *

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed the journey! I'd love to hear your thoughts on it :3**


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